


You and I (and no one else)

by b0ba_f3rnz



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b0ba_f3rnz/pseuds/b0ba_f3rnz
Summary: Suggestion by my friend Ace to "break Martin's ribs" so you can probably guess what this one is about!
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	You and I (and no one else)

Jon paced the doorway of his study. If the low burning candle on his desk was anything to go by, it had been nearly three hours since Martin had been due to return from his patrol duty. Jon opened the heavy wooden door slightly, as he had been doing every 10 minutes or so for the past hour. He peered down the stairway. No sign of Martin. The torchlight was burning low, though, Jon thought. Maybe he just couldn’t see him yet. He held his breath, listening for the slightest sound, even though he knew rationally that he would be able to hear Martin coming up the stairs a long ways off. The silence meant that he wasn’t there. 

Jon shut the door again, and sat down in his chair. He clasped his hands together, briskly rubbing one over the other in an attempt to stop their trembling. Martin was likely simply resolving a small dispute. Maybe he was even in the castle, discussing that night’s patrol with Lord Godfrey. Jon stood up, preparing to open the door again, when he heard a sound. 

He stilled instantly, and then smiled as he recognized the sound of the drawbridge being dropped. That night’s patrol was home. Martin was home. He sat back down heavily, but the momentary relaxation he felt was soon replaced with buzzing excitement. He had made some significant progress in his weaponry plans today, he was sure Martin would be interested. And the night was quite cold, he thought, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. It would be...pleasant. To have Martin beside him. He neatened the papers on his desk, and then stood up again. This time, it couldn’t hurt to open the door. Martin wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to climb the stairs. Unless he got caught up with Lord Godfrey, Jon thought sourly. 

Jon opened the door all the same. 

And then he waited. 

Martin was surely caught up with Lord Godfrey. Perhaps tonight had been exceptionally busy and there was much to report.

The candle on Jon’s desk was nearly burned out. He lit another one. Tonight was just a long report, that was all. 

The second candle was halfway melted. 

Jon surveyed it, and then took the holder by the handle, and left his study. 

Jon felt strangely criminal walking down the stairs of his tower. He knew he was perfectly allowed to do this, but he so rarely left his study after dark that the castle felt alien to him. He didn’t like the feeling the shadows left in his stomach. 

Jon’s foot connected with something soft on the stairs, the cry of pain that followed sending Jon reeling backwards. 

“Good lord!” Jon exclaimed, holding his candle aloft. It illuminated a flushed face, shining blonde curls, and- 

“Martin? Oh god, Martin!” 

Martin was slumped against the wall, stretched across one of the stairs. His hand clutched at his chest. 

“Martin, are you alright?” Jon said, crouching down. Martin didn’t respond, his eyes were unfocused. Jon waved his hand in front of Martin’s face, and Martin’s eyes lazily followed it. He slowly turned his head to meet Jon’s eyes, his breath shallow and ragged.   
“J-Jo-”  
“Shh.” Jon said, more harshly than he meant to. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He said gently, to make up for it. He focused his attention on Martin’s hand. He carefully took it, and removed it from his chest. Martin’s shirt was torn, revealing a sprawling patch of blackberry purple shot through with red. Martin’s ragged breathing filled the silence. 

“Oh, Martin.” Jon breathed, holding his hands a few inches from Martin’s chest. He looked up at Martin’s face. His eyes were still hazy. 

“Come on.” Jon said, softly, slinging Martin’s arm around his shoulders. He began to stand up, but staggered at both Martin’s weight and at the whimper he released at the movement.

“I know it hurts, it’ll only be a moment.” Jon murmured. “But I need to get you to bed. You won’t heal on hard stone.” 

He wrapped his other arm around Martin’s waist, careful to avoid what Jon was certain was a broken rib. He pulled him up, no small feat considering their size difference, and began the trudge up the stairs. It was gruelingly slow, stopping every few seconds to allow Martin to catch his breath. Jon was sweating by the time they reached his study. 

“Alright.” Jon said, depositing Martin onto the bed. He swayed, as if unsure whether to sit or lie down. Jon pushed his shoulders gently back onto the cot, and moved his legs so that he lay flat. He glanced around, even though he knew no one else was there, before pressing a kiss to Martin’s forehead. It was worth it, as Martin’s eyes focused on his. 

“Hello.” Jon said, squeezing his hand. “It won’t hurt as much soon, I promise.”

He turned to the cabinet of herbs in the corner of his study, rifling through them for the right ones to make a poultice that would help Martin’s bruising, at least. The noise of the herbs against the mortar and pestle grated his already raw nerves. He scooped the mixture up, and crossed over to Martin. Martin turned his head. 

“I’m sorry.” Jon mumbled, grabbing Martin’s hand. He began to brush the mixture across Martin’s bruise. His hand tightened in Jon’s. 

“I know, I know. But it’ll dull the pain.” Martin’s hand squeezed Jon’s tighter. 

Jon rubbed the last of the mixture into Martin’s skin, and instead ran his fingers through Martin’s hair. Martin’s eyes closed, his breathing evening slightly.

“Better?” Jon asked, sitting down beside the bed. He did not let go of Martin’s hand. Martin nodded, still unspeaking. Jon rested his head on the bed beside Martin’s shoulder. 

“You should sleep.”

Martin apparently took the instruction, and Jon followed moments later, his back against the wall and his hand still clasped in Martin’s.

**Author's Note:**

> More lil medieval one shots! i'm honestly not completely happy with this one but i like it enough to post so here it is! also, title is from no one else from natasha, pierre and the great comet of 1812 no i'm not sorry.


End file.
